The flag of piracy flew from my mast, my sails were set wing to wing I had a jukebox graduate for first mate, she couldn't sail but she sure could sing, I pushed B-52 and bombed 'em with the blues with my gear set stubborn on standing I broke all the rules, strafed my old high school, never once gave thought to landing, I hid in the clouded wrath of the crowd but when they said "Come down" I threw up Ooh-ooh growin' up
...and in New Jersey, no less!